


Many Miles Have We Walked Together (The Journey's Just Begun)

by KatieHavok



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Canon Autistic Character, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Fluff and Smut, Good Original Percival Graves, Honeymoon, Married Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 16:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok
Summary: The pot of stew is bubbling merrily on the stove when Newt finally returns, his eyes gleaming like new copper pennies in the greasy light of the gas lanterns.“I would have stayed out longer,” he says while striding to the ewer and basin to wash his face, chest, and hands, “but it’s begun to snow and I didn’t want to risk a sudden blizzard coming in while I was in the woods.”*Newt and Tina enjoy a quiet working honeymoon.





	Many Miles Have We Walked Together (The Journey's Just Begun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravensnwritingdesks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensnwritingdesks/gifts).
  * Inspired by [For I Was Spellbound By Your Incandescence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905922) by [ravensnwritingdesks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensnwritingdesks/pseuds/ravensnwritingdesks). 



> Based on ravensnwritingdesks's excellent story, "For I Was Spellbound By Your Incandescence" and written both as a gift and a continuation. I'd recommend you read that story first; I promise you won't be disappointed! <3 Thanks Ravens, for letting me play in your sandbox for a bit!

*

Tina looks up from her book at the sound of an ax on wood ringing throughout the clearing.

She sets aside her copy of _Law Enforcement In The United States_ to wander over to the window, pushing the gingham curtain aside. There, she smiles at the sight of her husband, splitting wood with grim determination. His bare and scarred back is speckled bronze in the weak late-winter sunlight, and she makes a mental note to cut some fresh aloe before checking the time and starting lunch.

Newt comes in to eat when the sun is directly overhead, wolfing down sandwiches made with leftover roast chicken before smiling at her sheepishly.

“I know I shouldn’t worry,” he says in his soft voice, “but I’m afraid we’ll run out of wood before the next storm hits. It smells like snow out there even now.”

Tina glances at the rough lean-to they’d made when they first reached the remote cabin on Mt. Greylock, two months ago. She counts at least half a cord of good hardwood remaining, but she knows her new husband worries almost obsessively about providing for her — a holdover from his time during the Great War, she suspects, though she would never dream of asking — and reaches for his hand before showing a bright smile.

“Do what you need to do,” she reassures him. “I’m going to study a bit more and do some mending before starting supper.”

Newt looks at her with the same simple wonder she’s come to love before leaning over to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be in just after sunset,” he murmurs, touching her cheek with work-roughened fingertips before heading into the unusual March warmth.

She smiles after him, heart glowing like a well-banked coal in her chest, before returning to her book.

*

The pot of stew is bubbling merrily on the stove when Newt finally returns, his eyes gleaming like new copper pennies in the greasy light of the gas lanterns.

“I would have stayed out longer,” he says while striding to the ewer and basin to wash his face, chest, and hands, “but it’s begun to snow and I didn’t want to risk a sudden blizzard coming in while I was in the woods.”

Tina looks out the window to find the landscape is already coated in soft white, their little clearing blurred into the background of the thick forest surrounding them. “You did the right thing,” she says, kissing him lightly as he pulls on a fresh shirt before taking his hands in her own. His palms and the inside of his knuckles are livid red with the day’s work. She rubs aloe into his skin to prevent blisters, a comforting and familiar ritual for them both, before wrapping them in clean gauze. She kisses his palm when she’s finished, petting his sweaty hair as he nuzzles his face into her neck before reminding him to eat.

They eat their dinner in companionable silence. Afterward, Newt tucks into his seat by the fire, reading glasses perched low on his nose as he immerses himself in a weighty zoological text. Tina takes up her book again, grimly pushing through the dry-as-dust material and taking notes in a fresh notebook until she can no longer ignore her jaw-cracking yawns.

“Are you _sure_ you wish to work more closely with detective Graves?” Newt’s amused voice floats across to her.

She huffs in exasperation before marking her place. “I can’t help it if this is boring material,” she says with mock-severity. “I have to know this stuff for when we get back to New York. I just wish it were a bit more exciting.”

Newt takes off his glasses and fastidiously straightens his work area before gaining his feet. “I’d offer to read it to you,” he says while unhooking the buttons on his shirt and lowering his braces, “but I think that would make it even _more_ boring. I’m afraid there’s nothing for it but to push through.”

Tina laughs while opening the door on the pot-bellied stove, adding a few logs before adjusting the flue. “If I’m to be one of the few female coppers in New York,” she says softly, “then I have to get through the boring bits so that I know what I’m doing. I can’t give them any reason to use the fact that I’m a woman against me.”

“You’ll be exceptional in your job, which they will see, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Her husband smiles at her softly as her face heats up before wincing and touching his bare shoulder. “Ouch…”

She lays her blazer and trousers over the back of a chair to air before crossing the space to him. “You’ve got a sunburn,” she says after a cursory inspection. “It’s a good thing Queenie sent that aloe plant along with us! Who knew it would see so much use?”

Newt chuckles before presenting his back to her, allowing her to lay a cloth soaked in vinegar and cold water over his skin before rubbing in yet more of the plant’s soothing gel. She coats his shoulders, upper arms and back, her touch as light and gentle as she can make it as his breathing gradually shifts beneath her hands. She lingers at his side, watching him relinquish his white-knuckle grip on the mantle, waiting for a sign from him that her suddenly-charged touch is welcome.

He takes a deep breath while turning, his face painted in alternating light and shadows when he cups her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

Tina melts into his embrace, sighing against his lips as his arms come around her, tipping her head back when he presses kisses along the column of her throat. “Do you want to...?” he asks low in her ear. She manages a breathless sound of assent, pleasant anticipation already tightening her stomach, before he scoops her up and carries her to their bed.

They finish stripping on the comfortable sprung mattress, tossing their underclothes aside to be dealt with later. Tina strokes his face and hair as he presses scratchy kisses all over her body, slowly re-learning the scent of her skin before sinking between her thighs. She concentrates on breathing as he lavishes her with his lips and tongue, rocking her head back to voice her pleasure before he kisses a path back to her mouth, settling over her with a groan.

Newt presses her thighs into the mattress when he sinks into her with a gasp and a sigh, resting his forehead against hers as they find their rhythm before his eyes slip closed. She is mindful of his burned back as she clings to his head with one arm, lightly tugging his hair, her other hand wrapping around his hips in breathless encouragement as they rock together.

The novel position is more _open_ than she is used to, more ardent, and she arches into him with a moan when he transfers his mouth to her breast, sucking and kissing. Tina discovers a focused poignancy to his touch when she closes her eyes, gasping his name as his tender affection urges her over the edge. Newt follows soon after, gasping her name and hiding his face in her damp throat when he shivers and goes still.

She keeps her touch light as she tangles her fingers in his hair and strokes his thigh, allowing them to catch their breath until he lifts his head. His skin glows with sweat, causing his freckles to stand out in base relief. He meets her eyes and strokes her cheek while moving in for a slow but deep kiss, touching the tip of his tongue to her own before rocking back onto his haunches.

He fetches a clean washcloth as Tina stretches over the mattress, body tingling pleasantly. Newt cleans her with typical thoroughness before washing himself and taking her hand to help her out of bed. She waits patiently, wrapped in the old, worn quilt as Newt fussily straightens and smoothes the sheets — knowing that he will be unable to sleep comfortably without this ritual, and loving him all the more for it — before climbing into bed and his awaiting arms.

Newt draws her firmly against his chest with one arm draped over her waist, his face tucked securely into her hair. The whisper of the falling snow and the cheerful crackle of logs in the stove is the only sound for a while, and Tina is drowsing pleasantly, on the verge of sleep when Newt whispers, “This time was different. It _felt_ different.”

She hums thoughtfully before nodding. “It was,” she agrees and reaches up to pat his hair reassuringly, smiling to herself. “But that’s not a bad thing. Is it?”

“No. Not at all,” he says, kissing her cheek before settling down. “Goodnight, my love. Sleep well.”

Tina takes a moment to quietly delight in his acknowledgment before replying, “Goodnight, Newt. I love you,” and allowing sleep to take her.

*

Tina looks up from her book at the sound of her week-old son fussing in his crib.

“Shhh, shh,” she soothes while rising from her chair with an instinctive wince. She crosses the room to scoop him up, cradling him against her and kissing his downy head while opening her blouse and camisole. He latches onto her engorged breast with enthusiasm as she ignores the sting by rote, looking at his perfect, tiny face with adoration as he nurses and she wanders a slow path around the room.

The midwife had warned her, after a long and difficult labor, that she needed to be up and moving whenever possible. The abused flesh between her legs aches and her stomach muscles still twinge whenever she laughs or even breathes too hard, but she already finds herself wondering how long they’ll have to wait before they can experience the simple wonder of creation and the joy of new life again.

She thinks it won’t be long, if the tentative, loving, and slightly worshipful way Newt handles their son is any indication.

“There you are,” she whispers lovingly when he’s drank his fill, smiling at his sleepy head and burping him before shuttling over to the changing table. She cleans his face before changing his diaper, tossing the soiled one into an awaiting pail. She’s just swaddling him in anticipation of putting him down for the night when warm, familiar arms slide around her, callused but beloved hands covering her own.

“How is he doing?” Newt asks in a low rumble, his lips just beside her ear.

Tina can’t help but smile before turning her head to kiss his cheek. “He’s perfect,” she whispers, transferring their son to Newt’s awaiting arms with only the slightest pang of separation.

Newt expertly folds him into his embrace before brushing a dark curl off his forehead. “Our little Zev,” he murmurs before looking up at her with impossibly bright eyes. “How is it possible that he’s more perfect now than when he was born?” he asks, turning that same soft gaze onto her. “And you are more radiant than ever.”

She goes to him, taking her husband and son, her entire world, into her arms.

“It’s the sweat,” she jokes wryly before kissing each of their cheeks in turn. “I’m really not sure,” she says more seriously, “but I know that we are incredibly blessed — _I’m_ incredibly blessed — to have you.”

He smiles at her, teeth and all, before pressing his lips to her temple.

“There may be a time when I come to believe that,” he says, and transfers their sleeping son to the crook of one arm before sliding the other around her waist, drawing her close and allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder to watch the sunset.

*

**Author's Note:**

> This story also serves to fill two prompts: 1.) _Super cliche, but I'd love to see Newt and Tina get snowed in somewhere which leads to a surprise 9 months later. Total PWP (except for that end result)_ ; and 2.) _Hello! I heard you take Newtina prompts and since I love your style, I wanted to ask if you could write sth I've wanted for so long! Newts calloused hands. Now, when I work a lot, my hands are calloused, too, and it hurts like hell. No doubt Newt could put a tincture on it, but I feel like he somehow he maybe wouldn't pay attention to his own needs too much. Can you write Tina tending to his hands, please? Newt needs to be taken care of too!_


End file.
